Illusions of Fire
by Xnasha Minstrel
Summary: Most versions of this tale begin with the rebirth of a boy by fire, saved by a man of failed ideals. This is not one of them, for that boy was born of another story, a small and fragile tale of a golden rose and a half-buried box under the ocean. Umineko spoilers for the entire series.
1. Birth By Fire

**AN: Because there needs to be more good crossover fic for Umineko. I find the archives sadly lacking, so here is my attempt to rectify that.**

**This is going to confuse the crap out of people who have only watched the anime, so...read the VNs. Or the manga, either is good.**

_**Bold with italics = Gold text**_

* * *

All stories begin with the birth of a child, somewhere along the line. This tale of swords, magic, and a duel of heroes born of stories for the powerful Grail is no different. Some versions of this tale begin with a boy's second birth, where he was saved by a man from the fires of hell that had stripped the boy of the identity he had up to that point and had warped his very mind and soul.

This is not that version of the story.

This tale...starts almost from the beginning of that boy's life.

This is necessary, for you see, that beginning had a much greater impact on the tale than anyone had first thought, for that boy was born of another story: the small and fragile tale of a golden rose and a half-buried box under the ocean...

* * *

"Oh, my child. I...I can't do this, Battler." The golden-haired woman cradled the baby protectively in her arms. Tears were rushing down her face as she gently stroked the boy's head, lingering over the tufts of red hair.

Beside her, the man with the same red hair as the child's wrapped an arm around the woman's shoulders, trying to console her, even though the same tears shone in his eyes.

"C'mon, Beato. We both know that the Golden Land is no place for the living. The fact that he was born to us is already...a miracle." With this, he gently stroked the baby's cheek with a gentle, teary smile on his face. The child did not wake from its slumber. "Even if he does not know us, he is an Ushiromiya. In time, perhaps he can find his way back to us again. My son..."

"**_As the Endless Golden Sorcerer of Miracles, I give to you this blessing: may your story have a happy ending. My son, you are a child of miracles indee__d_.**"

"_**As the Endless Golden Witch of a Thousand Years, I give to you this blessing: may you love and be loved in return, for without love it cannot be seen. Oh, my son, go safely, go safely.**_"

And the two of them left the baby on the doorstep of a couple who desperately longed for a child, with a letter in an envelope emblazoned with the golden one-winged eagle, sealed with red wax and the imprint of a ring.

In the envelope was a single page, with a plea to the couple to raise the boy, and his name.

'Ushiromiya Asher'.

They both looked back behind them, at their child, before they left for a place where he could not go.

"There's nothing more we can do other than to watch over him. He is our son, remember? A child of miracles. Believe in him, Beato. With love, we can see things that are not there." A kiss at her temple, a tighter grip around her shoulders.

"You're right. I, I'm sure, in the end, that everything will be alright...After all, without love it cannot be seen." A reassuring squeeze of his hand, a wavering yet strong smile.

With the fading radiance of golden butterflies, they disappeared from Gaia.

* * *

Through the fire, he walked on unsteady legs. Through the flames, he could hear the screams of his friends, his parents, and strangers caught up in this fiery hell.

To make it through each step, he discarded more of himself.

Happiness. Anger. Sadness. Joy. Hope.

One step after another, each of these things were thrown away.

He could not bear to throw Love away, however, so he had to make do with sacrificing pieces of it, trying to hold on to it like a lifeline.

Love for his friends slipped out of his fingertips. Love for his home spilled out of him like the blood from his gashes. Love for his parents burned to ashes as they burned as well.

Lastly, the love he had for his biological parents, love that he had never seen physical proof of but still believed in, started fraying at the edges, the threads of it falling to the oblivion of the flames.

While he was not aware of it, a force was guiding him, past the most heavily concentrated flames and to the one person in this inferno who could save him.

It drew him past the ashes of his past life and the hell of his current one. He continued walking.

At last he collapsed and it started to rain. He reached out to the sky, to the last threads of love he had left.

Just as the last of his strength fled him, another hand caught his, intertwining the fingers.

Looking up at the face of the man who smiled so beautifully as the rain mixed with the tears on his face, the boy couldn't help but to wonder if he could be happy like that. A voice whispered at the edge of his concisousness, blurred by the fire, rain, and years.

_Without love, it cannot be seen._

The world exploded into golden light.

* * *

When the man, Kiritsugu, asked him what his name was, the bandaged boy on the bed dug deep within himself.

He dug, past the ashes of his happiness and sadness, and searched through the shattered fragments of his memories.

Most of it was unrecognizable, already shattered into powder and reforged into steel by the flames that had licked his body and his mind.

One single shard remained, protected by a scrap of cloth, mere threads.

_My name is...U...shiro..._

The boy looked up again and met Kiritsugu's own eyes with his steely gray ones.

"Shirou. My name...is Shirou."

* * *

When Emiya Kiritsugu told him that he was a magus, Emiya Shirou didn't even blink.

He already knew.

He still had love, and miracles were still possible in the world.

* * *

**AN: ahahaha. wav I'm so evil spoilers below for EP8 Ending so watch out**

**This story was inspired by reading fight scenes in the manga(more specifically, the EP5 Hidden Tea Party) while listening to F/SN soundtracks. Some brain flashes involving red hair and magic and swords and falling in love with blond women ensued, and here it is, for your reading pleasure. AND ALSO I WROTE THIS FOR THE BEABATO FEELS DON'T JUDGE ME**

**So I was really just reading the Umineko manga for the Twilight of the Golden Witch as well, and I would first like to say that this story takes place far, far, far past the Magic Ending of EP 8. The memory of Ushiromiya Battler has already separated from 'Hachijou Tohya' and is metaphysically reunited with everyone in the Golden Land. Cue mass bawling and making of dying whale noises from overload of feels.**

**Then, wonder of all wonders, Shirou is born to Battler and Beato! Which is technically impossible, seeing that they're all dead, but that's why Battler calls him a child of miracles: a living child born to metaphysical beings. Bit like a demigod, now that I think about it, but meh.**

**Because, obviously, the Golden Land is not fit for the living as it is already a closed tale, so Battler and Beato leave him in the care of a couple in another Lord's game board (and boy do I have plans for this game board) and watch over him. They're the ones who kept nudging Shirou to survive and make his way to Kiritsugu. They couldn't do anything directly to help Shirou, since that would be meddling in someone else's tale and Territory Lords are touchy about that kind of thing.**

**'Asher' means 'fortunate' or 'blessed'; if nothing else Shirou has the blessing of his parents as he goes, if not safely, then at least bravely. The other reason why I chose this name is pretty damn obvious, if you still don't get it then just say it with a faux Japanese accent, it's pretty heavy foreshadowing and if anyone gives me trouble about how it's a spoiler, I will remind you that the F/SN VN has been published for about more than ten years now.**

**Don't expect me to update anywhere _near_ regularly.**

**Drop the starving author some reviews?**


	2. The Summoning

**AN: My goal as a fanfic author is for one of my fics to end up on Tv Tropes. Any fic is fine.**

**Look, I****'****m desperate here.**

**I tried to write this in a very Ryukishi07 style, but alas, I have not that genius.**

**In other news, update!**

**I****'****m skipping to where the good stuff begins to happen in the F/SN series: the part where Lancer is chasing Shirou down for the second time and trying to kill him again. Things go sideways after Shirou summons Saber. Let****'****s just say his prana is really, **_**really **_**strange, and they do strange strange things to the Servant it supports.**

**With that in mind...let****'****s begin.**

* * *

Quote of the Chapter: "Lancer's dead! You bastards! You aren't human!"

* * *

"It's a shame that I have to kill ya, kid. You could have been the Seventh." The monster in blue with the bloodred lance said, his grin gleaming in the dark of the shed. "I'll make it quick."

Shirou scrambled backward on his hands, even though he knew that it was useless. There was no way to outrun the spearman. The outcome of this meeting was long since decided.

_I__'__m going to die._

_I__'__m going to die._

_I-_

"I WANT TO LIVE!"

His bloodied hand landed on the circle on the ground.

* * *

Her hand froze, the teacup halfway to her lips. She set the ceramic down again, with a smirk that twisted her beautiful face with its sick humor.

The woman across from her said nothing, but the tilt of her blonde head expressed her question well enough.

"Ah...ahahaha! Heheheheh! Oh, Gaia! You won't believe it!" The woman across from her cackled, her silver hair fluttering around her.

"...believe?"

"What a wonderful game this is turning out to be!" She stood up and pranced away from the table, twirling in circles across the white marble floor of the hall. The sound of her silvery laughter echoed in the empty space as the fabric of her white dress spun out around her.

She stopped in the exact center of the room. The light streaming down from the various stained glass windows highlighted her divine beauty as she smiled, a mockery of a genuine smile of fondness.

In her hands was a figurine. Carved intricately, beyond the work of human hands, it depicted a young woman, a knightly figure clad in blue silk and silver armour. The doll's expression was solemn and grave, with an air of regality, as befitting of the King of Knights.

The silver-haired woman walked over to the game board on the table. It was unlike any chessboard, in the shape of an evershifting city. The buildings were made of a luminous crystal, and as the woman flicked a hand over it the board changed to her will, revealing other figures.

The woman picked up another figurine, this one of a red-haired boy. When turned to the right light, there was a golden sheen across its steel gray eyes, barely visible. She giggled; this one was one of her favorites to play with, to change as she liked. She liked this incarnation of him, although she also had a fondness for the red-and-black clad version of the piece as well.

A string, stronger than steel yet more fragile than illusions, glowing the same malicious red of Command Seals, was tied around the figurine of the Knight and the boy. She set the pieces back onto the board, which morphed into an octagon, each section occupied with two figurines.

In the light, the board was truly beautiful, and yet something about it, something just beneath the surface, did not seem quite right. The crystal, although it captured the light, did not truly shine, as if it had its own inherent darkness.

Throwing her arms out wide, the silver-haired woman declared, in a clear, ringing voice, to the empty hall.

"Thus begins our fifth game! Do your best, everyone!"

Across from her, the blonde-haired woman said nothing.

* * *

The power traced the outline of the bloody runes, and in a flash of red light, a figure appeared in the center of the circle.

Within moments of arrival, the person had already driven off the Lancer with a weapon he couldn't see. In that moment, the figure turned around, allowing him a full view.

She looked divine, lit by the light of the moon. The solemn and grave expression on her face was as much a part of her as the air of reality that she wore, like a mantle.

"I ask of you-are you my Master?"

But there was something beneath the surface, like a second skin that clung to her. It was a certain sadness, a sorrow that reached his heart.

To him, even more than the silver armour, even more than her piercing green eyes, even more than that solemn majesty, that sorrow was what made her beautiful beyond compare.

"I...I am."

She nodded, all military precision and grace. "Upon your summoning, I, Servant Saber, have come forth." Suddenly, her expression grew determined. "There are other Servants nearby. This is not a secure location. We must withdraw to a more defensible position, Master."

Shirou nodded numbly. He was too shocked at this point to do much else.

* * *

"Lemme just ask you: your weapon, it's a sword, isn't it?" Lancer grinned, every part of his body ready for battle.

"It could be anything, Servant of the Lance. How do you know it's not an axe, or a mace, or even another spear?" Saber said, her expression blank.

"Oh, there's no use trying to hide it from me, _Saber_," Lancer brought his spear into an attack stance. "Of course it's a sword. Now c'mon, I'd like to get a bit of a fight in before the night's over."

Saber frowned. She could feel the prana pulsing from the Master-Servant bond, but there was something strange about it. There was a lot less of it than she had expected, and yet she felt more energy than what the few units of prana should have been able to provide. There was a _dense _feeling to the prana she was receiving, but that made it feel..._odd._

She wasn't sure if fighting another Servant was a good idea at the moment; in fact, this was possibly a very, _very _bad idea. But Lancer was blocking the only exit, and no one in history could say that she was ever a coward. With that in mind, she charged forward.

Her sword impacted with the spear, and Lancer was _thrown _off his feet.

What? She knew she didn't put that much strength in the blow...

"Tch! You're quite strong for someone so bite-sized." Lancer winced as he regained his footing, bringing his spear around to bear. He grinned, every inch the battle maniac. "Ah, that's great. That's fucking awesome!"

They clashed. The sound of metal on metal echoed around the yard as their weapons met, sending gales of wind in every direction.

"This is getting fun!" Lancer laughed, still attacking. "But I'm on a time limit, so I'm going to have to end this! GAE-"

Saber felt the prana in her flicker.

The other Servant frozed for just a fraction of a second, barely managing to deflect Saber's instinctive blow.

"...er?" Lancer whispered, before leaping backwards. His eyes were now colder than ice. "What a dirty trick. My Master is calling, the cowardly bastard, so we'll have to settle this another day. But remember: you'll pay for that."

Lancer retreated in the blink of an eye, leaving Saber standing in the yard, confused.

What had just happened?

* * *

**AN: Three guesses for who the two people playing with the Grail War pieces are, and the first two don****'****t count.**

**Yeah, this chapter was mostly written for the meta scene. Also, needed to establish that something **_**odd **_**is happening to Saber.**

**Also had a lot of fun researching Celtic mythology in this chapter, or more specifically the Ulster Cycle. Did you know that once when Cuchulainn went in a berserker rage and his allies couldn****'**** get him out of it, the other guys had topless women mob him. When he turned his face away, embarrassed, they threw him in to a barrel of water. The barrel promptly **_**exploded.**_** Yeah. They threw him into another barrel, and the water boiled away. They threw him into another one, and finally the water just made it to bathwater temperature.**

**Talk about being hot, and I mean both kinds of hot, because at the time before he got hitched all the other men were worried that he would sleep with their wives and steal their daughters. Yeah. **

**Drop the starving author a review?**


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